


The Sixth Month

by GeminixEvil



Category: Sixth Month
Genre: Adventure, Angst, BL, Conlang, Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:41:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24266050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeminixEvil/pseuds/GeminixEvil
Summary: In the Land of Stars, a utopia seems to be in arms length. The earth is bright green, the sky is clear night and day, and the people are thriving. For Juital, whose life is full of commands and instructions, the status quo can not be disrupted. That is, until dark occurrences begin to disturb the peace of the golden era. When Juital's heart begins to beat for someone else, his sworn duty becomes a challenge he is unsure he can fulfill.[Ongoing]





	1. Chapter 1

◤ ❦ ◢

Spring began to show his warm signs all over Yullahl, the Land of Stars, and its people. Beautiful orchids bloomed and showed off their snow white petals with dots of pink and purple. 'The blooms of spotted flowers bring prosperity,' the people think while strolling in the glow of the sun. It was the Day of Flowers and the festivities had begun as early as ever. 

The open market in Zhai City was one of the liveliest markets in all the land, even more so on holidays. Its place in North Yullahl allowed for booming ports, and its smooth stone paths seemed to vibrate underneath the quick steps of everyone. Vendors lured customers to their stalls with the sweet aroma of various plants and bright smiles. It was the day the Spirit of Spring would grant blessings after being offered flowers at the temples. People crowded the entrances of the sanctums with their minds already full of wishes. 

Music filled the streets as much as the aromas, boosting the festive atmosphere. The Spirit of Spring was thought to be the most lively out of all Spirits, so everyone would dance and sing and parade throughout the streets. There was no care to be brought that day. 

"Which one should I take? The daffodil or the crocus?" Nimehda[1] asked aloud as she stared at the two flowers intently. She looked like a little kid hunched over with her pursed lips and focused eyes. 

She lightly bit her nail out of habit. Her eyes bounced between the flowers on display. "Young girl, I would offer the crocus," the vendor said. The woman was in her later years and had notable wrinkles, but moved around with youthful excitement. "You have the looks to marry into the Nobles, girl. I'd offer crocuses every day!" The vendor began to reach for some small purple flowers. 

Nimehda giggled awkwardly. She didn't want to hurt the excited vendor's feelings by saying it was for somebody else. The old lady seemed to look at her as a daughter, so how could Nimehda say no? She reached into the small bag dangling from her wrist and pulled out a few coins. "Do not worry about it, young girl! You must save the money for the wedding," the vendor smiled a toothless grin. 

"Old aunt, you flatter me too much. Please, take these," Nimehda bowed her head. She stuck out her hand with the coins, but the vendor pushed it back. 

Nimehda's cheeks began to flame out of embarrassment. She was a servant for the Thein[2] Noble Family, so there was no way she could marry into it, or any of the other three Noble Families. She knew her place in society and didn't want to disrupt what was set in stone. 

"I would like to buy a bouquet of lilies, old aunt," a low voice said among the crowd. While the day made everyone more aware of time, that voice sounded like it had all the time in the world. There was no hint of impatience in its tone.

Both the vendor and girl turned to look at who had spoken. A young man stood there, hand open with some coins. His droopy eyes matched his angled face in all of its seriousness. He looked straight at the flowers that were in a bucket near the old lady and nothing else. His brown eyes seemed to be disinterested by everything. 

Despite his stoic demeanor, the vendor chirped up. "Boy, you came! I was starting to worry," she began to laugh. "You haven't shown your face at all lately! You should never make an old woman like me worry. We could die!" 

"My master had some other duties for us. We are free now, however. I apologize for making you worry." The boy spoke with such solemnity that it was strange to hear. Why would somebody so young speak like that? Nimehda awkwardly moved the coins in her hand and tried to steal glances at the boy next to her. 

The light gray of his clothes complimented his disheveled brown hair and tanned honey skin, like silver inscribed into polished copper. His hands were calloused. Nimehda's quick glances revealed little about the young man.

The low voice came out again. "Are you looking to buy more flowers? If money is a problem, I will buy them for you," he said. Nimehda was too busy with her thoughts to realize he was talking to her. 

An "excuse me, miss" from the boy snapped her out of her head. She quickly turned and met his gaze straight on. In that instant, she learned more about him than from her previous glances. 

He wore a teal-colored decorative cloth around his shoulders that reached his biceps. The Seal of the Horned Eagle was embroidered proudly in the middle to show off who he worked for. He was a high-ranking warrior for the Hwei Noble Family! Instantly, Nimehda formally bowed to him. "Warrior, please continue to fight for the prosperity of Yullahl," she said. 

The warrior bowed as well, "Serve the Thein Noble Family well. We are just as important as them." 

Nimehda blushed again. There was something about him and his seriousness. All she could look at was the Thein Stamp on her sleeves that denoted her place as a servant. For some reason, she was embarrassed by the boy in front of her for having noticed her in the first place. It is known that a Noble's servant is of higher place amongst the commoners, but right now, she wished she wasn't one. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. 

Bells began to ring in that moment, further adding to the sounds of the bustling marketplace. The parade was starting soon and everyone quickly made their way to the main street. 

"I shall take my leave here," the warrior bowed after placing the coins onto the aged wood. He grabbed the flowers and began to move away. His movements seemed calculated every step of the way. 

Nimehda called out for him. Her words came out faster than she could process them. "Excuse me, warrior, what's your name?" 

"I am Warrior Juital[3] Zohl, contracted under the Hwei Noble Family," he said as he stopped and turned around. His brown eyes still appeared as a pair of stones. 

His name was peculiar and frankly ironic. Nimehda let out a giggle thinking about it. He was as stoic and cold as one could get, yet his name meant 'a happy feather.' Her giggling stopped when her eyes met his. Somehow, they seemed to be disappointed. Was he only capable of such negative emotions? He was nothing at all like his last name... 

"I'm sorry, I di—"

"It is disrespectful to laugh at a name. It is a symbol of devotion between parents." 

She bit her lips, knowing she overstepped a line this time. "Warrior Zohl, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean any harm, I j-just thought it was cute, th-that's all..." 

Hearing that, Juital let out air through his nose. What did he feel... "I wish well celebrations for you for the Day of Flowers. The parade will begin soon," he lowered his head and began walking away. Time came flowing into his consciousness. He didn't have any more time to spare, but floating petals and flowing notes of instruments calmed his speed. His fingers slowly grazed the white flowers and he thought of the temple. Every year he offered the same white lilies and prayed for the same blessing. 

He looked around quickly as if trying not to get caught. People moved with such joy and expressiveness. Children held hands and jumped around; teenagers flirted more openly; adults held their partners lovingly; elders created music with smiles. Juital broke his gaze and decided to focus on his destination instead. 

Looming ahead was the Spring Temple, a structure that reflected all the colors of the season, was amazingly decorated around this time. Garlands of every type of flower hung from any and every wall and pillar. Hand written notes were tied to the stems, a tradition said to make those small wishes come true. The Spirit of Spring was considered the kindest and most understanding of humans, so everyone always buttered up to get its blessing. Any temple made for the Spirit was usually the most preserved. 

Maneuvering through the dense crowds, Juital began to hope. He brought the bouquet closer to his chest like protecting a fragile trinket. It had to stay intact for the offering to work and his blessing to be noticed.

There was little to his blessing. Juital was simple; he was a warrior. Protection was his duty, so there was no reason to call the Spirit for it. Yet he held the lilies close with his rough hands. Maybe he, too, wanted protection.

—————

[1] Nimehda = knee-meh-ta  
[2] Thein = th-eye-n  
-> th as in "through"  
[3] Juital = yoo-ee-ta-l


	2. Chapter 2

◤❦ ◢

"Opal Prince Yolotli, is Your Imperial Highness ready to be clothed?" 

Standing in front of a gold encased mirror was the body of a young adult. His hair was a waterfall dyed with black ink, falling all the way to his waist. From a distance, it seemed like the white silk undergarments he wore were streaked, but that was not so. His hair was straight, almost too straight, and shined with the sunlight that seeped in from the windows. His tango pink lips curved into a soft smile. 

It was the Day of Flowers and the Palace was in a swirl of joyous frenzy. The ground servants ran to and fro throughout the Palace to decorate it with flowers and light incense. Kitchen servants prepared dishes the Spirit enjoyed, and the art servants readied their bodies for a day with no breaks. 

In Yullahl, each season had a dedicated day to be welcomed. It ensured the prosperity of the land and also of the people. The Opal Palace was the head of each day, but they were not without help. The four Noble Families, one for each season and main direction, had their duties as well. Together, they would bring the graces from the Spirits of the Seasons.

Yolotli slowly recited any objects and colors he could see in the mirror. Lately his eyes were having trouble doing their designated job, so the imperial doctor had instructed him to take time to practice pointing out items. As anyone should, he followed the given orders. It was a simple task and could help him recover. 

The red silk that hung over his bed emanated a soft color around its space. A small, brown ceramic fountain near the neat bed burned lavender. Various fans from all over the country hung on his wall. A small portion of a family portrait was nearby. He knew his room like the back of his hand, yet he practiced anyway. Orders were orders.

Of all the things in the mirror, there was one thing he did not recite. He did not attempt to practice with it since there was no need to. The beads of polished turquoise with a single copper plume around his neck was engraved into every memory he had. He did not know why, but it was just so. 

Eventually, he called out in a silvery voice, "I am ready. Please come in." He had to always be refined and proper— anyone of such a position had to be. While others always struggled to keep their appearances, Yolotli was never a worry for the Opal Empress and Emperor. He had never crossed the line or made things difficult for them. 

Four servants, two girls and two boys, who looked to be around his age greeted the prince after opening the double doors. "Your Imperial Highness," they said in unison. 

"There is no need to call me such things when in private," Yolotli smiled. They had all grown up together, save for one who had arrived in the later years, so Yolotli considered them more like siblings. He was the only child in the Imperial Family, which led him to being attached to what the others considered mere servants. 

A pale-skinned girl, Reuneh[1], was the first to talk. "Well, we weren't in private just yet," she said after closing the doors with her foot. Her hands were occupied with a wooden structure that Yolotli's second layer of clothes neatly hung on. Her brown hair swayed from side to side as she stepped into the familiar space. 

"And did you forget what happened to Thaim[2] when they somehow heard him call Your Imperial Highness's name?" The olive boy asked, half-joking, half-serious. He was also holding a structure like Reuneh, but this one had the final garment. The collar and cuffs were the only white things; every other thread was a canvas for a painting of the Spirit of Spring. Pinks, purples, and blues covered the garment in intricate details. Following the spine was an embroidered saying: Flowers fly with your grace. 

Thaim chuckled at the mention of the memory. He walked over to Yolotli, who looked at him with an apologetic look. "I have to say, hay is actually comfortable. The horses are pretty nice, too." He placed a golden box onto the dresser. The top had Yolotli's name engraved into it. "I genuinely don't think I'd mind sleeping there for a week." 

"Thaim, I sincerely am regretful for what happened. I had not closed the door correctly and left a crack open," Yolotli said with a tinge of pain in his voice. He cried every night the whole week Thaim had been locked in the stables. None of his friends could console him. They were all forbidden to even attempt to get near the stables. All Yolotli could do was view the red building from a window in the east quarters. 

Yolotli unfolded his arms to the side while looking into the mirror again. Reuneh set the wooden frame down onto the marble floor. Not a single speck of dust was seen on the pure white floor. It was like a sheet of unstained snow that rested calmly with no disturbances. The small echoes of shoes tapping bounced off the walls and out the open window. She lightly pulled off the garment and inched towards the prince. Carefully, she slipped the right sleeve on with diligence, and then the left sleeve.

A slow tapping began to fill the room. Dayi[3], the other female servant, brought her nails one by one onto a polished box. "So, are you gonna dance today? You haven't stopped mentioning it, so I'm kinda curious," she questioned bravely. She plopped onto the silk sheets on the bed and held the box high above her. Her eyes followed any lines that could be seen at the bottom as if she had never seen it before. No one batted an eye at her informal language. There were no skipping heartbeats or faces scrunching up. 

"Wait, hold on. Did the imperial doctor say you can?" Fanlyo leaned onto a pillar from the bed with the wooden structure still in his hands. He slowly brought his foot close to Dayi's, lightly announcing his presence to her.

"The imperial doctor said I must be careful. There is no need to worry, however. I thoroughly believe nothing will go wrong," Yolotli reassured them. Reuneh began to pull the metal wires in the fabric tight. A small wheeze came out of his mouth. He followed the lines of his body in the mirror and saw a curve in the fabric. "I hope the Spirit of Spring enjoys it." 

"Opal Prince Yolotli, anyone who sees you dance will find their heart at ease," Thaim said while Fanlyo left his post to put the last layer on. Thaim turned his head to look at Yolotli, who hadn't expected to be caught staring. The servant raised his eyebrows at a pace that quickened the prince's heartbeat. Cool breezes entered the room, yet Yolotli could not help but feel a type of warmth surge through his body. He had to look away. 

Once Fanlyo finished, Yolotli moved over to the vanity, or rather, Thaim led him there, his hand on Yolotli's lower back. Thaim moved his thumb in caresses, which sent shivers throughout Yolotli's nerves. Sitting down, the prince could not meet the gaze of the boy behind him. "I shall now begin to style Your Imperial Highness's hair, with permission," Thaim said. Yolotli let out a barely audible 'yes,' letting him begin.

All males of Imperial and Noble status were expected to have their hair long and presentable. It was written in the scrolls of the first Yullahl families that long hair brought growth to the land, so everyone following them must obey, and they did. 

Thaim ran his fingers through the black waterfall that made up Yolotli's hair with a smile reflected in the vanity's mirror. Yolotli closed his eyes for fear of meeting those of the boy behind him and relaxing his body even more under Thaim's graze. He braided the hair and tied it up, a bun of intricate technique forming. A small shock of ease permeated throughout Yolotli's muscles for every strand Thaim touched. Was it due to how soft his touch was? Or simply because he felt a bit tired? 

The boy, without removing his grip on the bun, opened the box and pulled out ornate hair pieces. Bells and small gemstones dangled from the rods, which would announce the prince's presence with shine and high rings. Large turquoise feathers were also placed in an arc into the hair. Finally, a veil placed by Dayi covered his hazel eyes and defined cheeks. Yolotli looked like a modest peacock of the most grandeur. 

"If the head of Opal Prince Yolotli gets too heavy, my shoulder will always be available," Thaim whispered. 

Yolotli stood up and bowed to his friends for a long day ahead of them. When he straightened himself, his gaze was reeled in by Thaim. He thanked Dayi internally. His stained cheeks could not be seen, just like his racing heart, for which he was thankful.

—————  
[1] Reuneh = r is like a tap above the teeth, like in the Spanish word "caro"; eu is like the Korean vowel 으 (eu)   
[2] Thaim = th-eye-m   
-> th as in "through"   
[3] Dayi = ta-yee


End file.
